The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: Responses from Men Part 4

The Fifteen Comforts, &c.

_The first Comfort of Cuckoldom._

As I last Night in Bed lay Snoring, I sweetly dreamt of Drinking and of Whoring, Which waking me from a most pleasant Sleep, To my dear Wife I very close did creep, And offering to give her what I shou'd, Quoth she, you Fumbler you can do no good, Give me the Man that never claps his Wings, But always Life and Courage with him brings, 'Tis such an one wou'd please; but as for you If Night and Morning some small matter do; You think you've done your due Benevolence, When I with thrice your Labour can dispence.

This Reprimand my Courage soon did cool, And fearing Combing with a Three-Legg'd-Stool; I very fairly went to sleep again, And left her of my Manhood to complain.

_The Second Comfort of Cuckoldom._

No sooner had I chang'd my single Life, And had confin'd my Carca.s.s to a Wife; But she was always Gadding up and down, To take the various Pleasures of the Town; Howe're I only reckon'd this to be, The airy Frisks of her Minority, Till shortly finding and old Hag wou'd pay Her Visits oft, and take her Day by Day [*?]oad, indeed this gave me some Mistrust, That this old weather beaten Devil must Be some Procurer, and resolv'd to watch Their Waters, where shoul'd I the b.i.t.c.hes catch, But in a Bowdy-house in _Milford-lane_?

So going in a Pa.s.sion home again, At twelve at Night my Doxie likewise came, Whom I in mod'rate Terms began to blame; Telling her that old Witch with whom she went, Abroad a Days by Rogues was only sent About to Wheedle young and tender Maids To Ruine, till they turned common Jades.

_You Lie_, reply'd my hopeful graceless Dear, _I'll have you know, I'll never sin in fear, Besides for she of whom you think, Amiss, That sweet obliging Gentlewoman is A tender-hearted Bawd that ne'er made Wh.o.r.e, But ever us'd such as were broke before._ Now finding her so bad at Seventeen, Thinks I by that time she has Thirty seen, She'll be a Wh.o.r.e in Grain; but by good hap, She dy'd within a year of Pox and Clap.

_The third Comfort of Cuckoldom._

It was my Fortune to be joyn'd to one, As pretty as was s.h.i.+ned on by the Sun; For on my word her Eyes were full and gray, With ruddy Lips, round Cheeks, her Forehead lay Archt like a snowie Bank, which did uphold Her natvie Tresses, that did s.h.i.+ne like Gold; Her azure Veins, which with a well sharp'd Nose, Her whiter Neck, broad Shoulders to compose: A slender Waste, a Body strait and Tall, With Swan-like b.r.e.a.s.t.s, long Hands, and Fingers small, Her Ivory Knees, her Legs were neat and clean, A Swelling Calf, with Ancles round and lean, Her Insteps thin, short Heels, with even Toes, A Sole most strait, proportion'd Feet, she goes With modest Grace; but yet her Company, Did not a Month enjoy, before that I Was Prest for Sea, and being on the Main, For thirty Months I then return'd again, Where finding in my absence that my Wife Three brats had got, a most unchaste Life Both Day and Night I led the lech'rous Wh.o.r.e; Who seeing how I Curst, and Bann'd, and Swore, A Bag or two she shew'd me cramn'd with Gold, Which Treasure I no sooner did behold, But then I Kist my loving Wife and leapt, For very Gladness that my Horns were Tipt.

_The fourth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

Above a Year or two I always thought My Wife so good that she cou'd not be naught, Till one Night coming home I caught a Spark Sat in my Parlor by her in the Dark, In mighty Pet I call'd for Candles strait, Doubting that I poor Fool was come too late: T'avert the Burthen which is made to grow On such who enters into Cuckolds Row.

Hower'e as I was thinking of the best, And as I nothing saw contented rest, My am'rous Wife's Gallant, before he went, Did shew enough t'encrease my Discontent For he wou'd slily pull her Petticoat, Nod, Wink, and put into her Hand a Note, Whisper her in the Ear, or touch her Foot With many other private Signs to boot, All which confirm'd my Jealousie the more, And made me think 'em to be Rogue and Wh.o.r.e, But as I knew my Wife a bawling s.l.u.t, My Horns into my Pocket did I put For Quietness, which yet I seldom had, So I thro' Cuckoldom run really Mad.

_The fifth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

When I poor I unto a Wife was bound, I wish I had been Bury'd under Ground, For to my Grief I found her both before And after Marriage too to be a Wh.o.r.e.

But when I found the Beast of such a Breed, I soldier turn'd, and with a Baw'd agreed To let her out at half a Crown a Week Who undertook she shou'd not be too seek; For Custom, but said, she must for her pains, From th' insatiate Wh.o.r.e have double Gains.

_The Sixth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

Finding my Wife by Whoring nothing get, But to maintain her Sparks ran me in Debt; Her Whoring gratis made me really vext, So Shop I shut, and fled to _Holland_ next.

_The Seventh Comfort of Cuckoldom._

While I was but into the Country gone, To give some Chapmen there the gentle Dun Mean time a Rubbers she with some had play'd, And in the Powd'ring Tub was quickly laid, Unknown to me, and had been secret still, But that the Surgeon bringing in his Bill When I came Home, the Murder so came out, And still my Wife is Wh.o.r.e enough I doubt.

_The Eighth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

A sordid Lecher coming very old To tempt my Spouse with Silver and with Gold, She told me of't, and said, she cou'd not fawn, On him, or's Gold, to lay her Soul in p.a.w.n.

By this I thought her Honest, till my maid Inform'd me shortly what Lew'd Tricks she play I Twitted then my Wife's Hypocrisie, Who Impudently did Reply to me; Old Flesh she Loath'd, as having in it left No Gravy, and of all it's Juice bereft, But if the Flesh was Young and to her mind, She'd to one Dish would never be confin'd.

_The Ninth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

By my Dear Wife, in turning up her Tail To bear the Thres.h.i.+ng of her Gallant's Frail, A Groat (which always is a Cuckold's Fee) Under the Candlestick I've laid for me; Besides good Peck and Booze, so till she's Dead, She may and will Wh.o.r.e on to get me Bread.

_The Tenth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

As Strangers flatter'd with deceitful Snow, Fall in a Deadly Pit they do not know, So was I hamper'd in a Marriage Noose, In Marrying one that did frequent the Stews, As well as Cuckold me at Home; but she Transacting Wh.o.r.edom with great Secresie Like other Neighbours, to avoid the Name Of Cuckold, I as private hid her shame.

_The Eleventh Comfort of Cuckoldom._

When I found Cuckolds to Encrease apace, I Marry'd one with such an Ugly Face That one wou'd thought the Devil wou'd but grotch So foul a Figure as my Wife to touch; Yet being at a Friendly Club one Night, A Raskal came and Cuckol'd me for spight.

_The Twelfth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

What signifies a Man to fret and fume, Till Grief and Sorrow makes his Flesh consume Because his Wife in Actions may be light And to his Face will horn him Day and Night; This Comfort may alleviate his Woe, That Cuckold's without doubt to Heaven go.

_The Thirteenth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

If it's my Fate (I oftentimes would cry) To have a Wife that will play wantonly, I soon wou'd tame her, or at least I shou'd Be Hang'd for her but I wou'd make her good.

But faith it is my Luck to light upon Such Ware, that will a _Caterwoulling_ run, And cannot help it, for to have her full Of sport, she's run away a Soldiers Trull.

_The Fourteenth Comfort of Cuckoldom._

When at _Horn-Fair_ I see how ev'ry Year Whole droves of Cuckold's thither do appear The very sight thereof wou'd make one swear That none but Cuckolds in the Nation were; Especially if those who are not known, For Cuckolds too the t.i.tle wou'd but own, And such as are not summon'd would appear, In those Accoutrements we ought to wear, Which are our Horns, a Pick Axe and a Spade, That Paths may for our Wives be even laid.

_The Fifteenth Comfort of Cuckledom._

If that our wives will tick their Souls on Sin, Tis vain to make about their Ears a din, For that exasperates their will the more, And where in private may in publick Wh.o.r.e; So then the Scandal coming to all Ears, Each Neighbour will not only fling his Jeers Upon us, but the Boys will hoot it too, And point their Fingers at us where we go, As if we were not come of human Blood, Because they do perceive we've Horns to bud; But to avoid so base and curst a Life, The only way's to Live without a wife.

FINIS.

THE Fifteen COMFORTS OF A Wanton Wife:

OR,

_The_ FOOL _Well Fitted._

_Dedicated to the_ London-Cuckolds.